Read Do You Want to Know a Secret? Online
Authors: Mary Jane Clark
Bill Kendall’s widow. What a grand role that would be! To have been able to mourn for Bill for all the world to see. Jean would have given that role the respect it deserved, beginning from the day of the funeral. It would been her privilege to walk behind Bill’s casket, to have the priest address her in his sermon.
The priest. That’s what had her thinking so much about Bill. Jean looked down and began fingering the ivory bracelet on her left wrist. A Christmas gift from her precious Bill.
She wondered what the priest had been talking to Mrs. Wingard about.
She brought her plate over to the kitchen sink, bent down to the cabinet beneath and began to rummage through it. Finding the can of paint thinner, she grabbed a clean rag and made her way to the bathroom. Those painters had been slobs. There were paint splatterings all over the place. She breathed in the turpentine vapors as she methodically began rubbing and loosening the tiny specks of stray paint that had affixed themselves to the tiles. She liked things to be spotless.
As she worked diligently, her thoughts turned to her new job. She wanted so to make a success of it. Range had told her today that she would be traveling with the news staff to the conventions this summer. She was thrilled. She wanted to do a good job, wanted everyone to see her value. She planned to study up before the trips.
Pete Carlson would be anchoring at the conventions this year. She hoped he flopped. Failed miserably. Carlson had nerve, thinking he could replace Bill.
It still bothered her having to leave Bill’s personal files on the computer in what was now Pete Carlson’s office. What if that slug ever accessed them?
That’s impossible, Jean consoled herself. If she couldn’t figure out Bill’s password, then Carlson couldn’t either.
As she scrubbed away, Bill’s bracelet smashed against the tile wall, breaking apart. She knelt down to pick up the pieces, tears welling up in her eyes.
Bill’s gift. Ivory.
“ ‘An elephant never forgets.’
“Elephant!”
Mack was waiting
for Eliza when she arrived at the
KEY to America
studio at 5:00
A.M
. As she approached him, her face lit up in a smile and she felt her heart beat faster.
“What in the world are you doing here so early? Never mind. I’ve missed you.” She wanted to kiss him but, mindful of where they were, she held back. Her initial reaction of happy anticipation was quickly replaced by a sense of foreboding when she saw the strange expression on Mack’s face.
“Let’s go up to your office.”
“What? What is it? Just tell me now.”
“Trust me.”
He took her arm and guided her out of the newsroom and down the hall to the elevator. Once inside her office, he closed the door and indicated she should take a seat.
“Okay, now. What is it?” she demanded.
“Here.”
He pulled a rolled-up copy of the newest issue of
The Mole
from his jacket pocket. Eliza felt her pulse race as she read the headline:
ELIZA BLAKE: THE TIE THAT BINDS DEAD ANCHOR AND MURDERED DOCTOR!
As Eliza scanned the innuendo-filled story, Mack said, “You’ve got to confront this head on.”
The last few
minutes of every
KEY to America
were usually devoted to off-the-cuff banter between Eliza and Harry. But today, everyone was talking about Eliza’s soliloquy on this morning’s broadcast.
Yelena re-cued the videotape to watch it again. Eliza, in a honey-colored jacket, looked resolutely into the camera, her blue eyes clear.
“In closing this morning, I want to talk to you about something very personal. It’s about a time of my life, a very painful time, a time that I’d always thought I could keep to myself.
“Unfortunately, now, due to recent published reports, erroneous reports, I feel I must set the record straight.”
The camera pulled tighter on Eliza’s solemn face.
“Four years ago, after the death of my husband and the birth of my daughter, I went through a very difficult time. Simply put, I collapsed emotionally. At that time, Bill Kendall, our former anchorman and my dear friend, was very supportive, going as far as recommending a good therapist, Dr. Leo Karas.
“It’s been reported that I was hospitalized. And that is true. I spent almost a month at a hospital in New Jersey recuperating and I continued therapy with Dr. Karas after my clinic stay. Fortunately for me and my child, I was able, with wonderful care, to get through that hard time. I am very grateful for that.”
Yelena watched as Eliza stared determinedly from the screen.
“It’s also been reported, however, that I had a drug problem.
That is not true
. I have never used cocaine or any other illegal drug in my life. I hasten to add, though, that people who
are
addicted to drugs need to be helped, not attacked.
“Within the past two months, we’ve lost Bill Kendall to suicide and Dr. Karas has been murdered. I, as much as and perhaps more than anyone else would like to know what, if any, connection there is between these two tragic deaths.”
Here, Eliza was adamant.
“But to suggest, as has been done in print, that I may have had something to do with these events, is libelous, malicious and outrageous. Both of these men were very dear to me, and important in my life.”
Yelena stopped the videotape. The
KEY News
switchboard had been inundated with calls, and faxes had been coming in all day. The overwhelming majority of viewers were supporting Eliza.
The news president was relieved, but not just because it was good for
KEY News
.
Jean sat in
the back of a yellow cab riding up Tenth Avenue, eager to get to Eliza’s Upper West Side apartment.
It hadn’t been too difficult to get to the computer. She still had her key to Pete’s office—no, she corrected herself—
Bill’s
office. She waited until everyone had cleared out after Friday’s show. She’d simply let herself into the office, sat behind the desk and typed in the eight letters.
E-L-E-P-H-A-N-T
. Magic.
Bill’s Remember directory opened. The first file in the alphabetical list was ‘
ETHICS.PC.
’ Jean had almost bypassed this file, thinking PC stood for “politically correct.” When she double-clicked on it, the file opened and she discovered that the letters stood, instead, for Pete Carlson.
The cab pulled up in front of Eliza’s building. The doorman announced her and Jean was let into the apartment by Mrs. Twomey. Janie was at the housekeeper’s side.
“Mommy is getting ready for a big party,” she announced proudly.
Eliza came down the hall, wearing a bathrobe, her hair wrapped in a towel, looking worried.
“Jean, is everything okay?” Jean had never come to the apartment before.
“Eliza, you have to help. I have to tell you what I found on Bill’s computer. Pete Carlson!” Jean was out of breath.
Eliza took her arm. “Here, Jean, sit down. Calm your-self. Now, what’s the matter?”
“It’s Pete Carlson.”
“Mrs. Twomey, would you please take Janie into the kitchen and get her some ice cream for dessert?” Eliza didn’t want Janie in on this.
“Now, start again, Jean.”
Bill’s secretary tried to collect herself. “Okay. You know how Bill was planning on writing a book?”
“Yes.”
“Well, he kept notes on his computer for it. Notes that were password-protected, I couldn’t access them after he died, couldn’t erase them from the computer, the computer that is now in Carlson’s office.”
“Goon.”
“Well, I figured out the password.”
Down the hall, Eliza could see Mrs. Twomey in the kitchen. Beyond the housekeeper, she saw Janie globbing Hershey’s syrup on her vanilla ice cream. So normal a scene in what had become such a complicated life.
She forced herself to ask, “What did you find?”
“Something about Pete Carlson and the Wingard campaign. Oh, God, it’s all in the computer. I didn’t want to make a hard copy of the files. But you can come and see the notes yourself.”
Eliza glanced at her watch. In twenty minutes, Mack would be picking her up to drive out to the New Visions dinner. She had to give the speech tonight. She’d promised. First, the lies in
The Mole
yesterday, then her defense before a national audience, now this.